Attention Seekers
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: In which Amy and Rory have a list of things to do in order to get the Doctor to come back to Earth to explain what the hell happened at Demon's Run with Melody/River. Set to be between A Good Man Goes to War and Let's Kill Hitler!
1. Making Dem Plans

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Doctor Who. Thanks for reading! :)**

Amy looked up from where she was doing the dishes with a thoughtful face, and said, almost absentmindedly, as if she were talking aloud to herself, "How easily do you think it would be to create an earthquake?"

Rory was a bit startled. He looked up from his cereal and town paper to Amy and said, "Well, it'd be a bit hard, I guess." He frowned slightly to himself. "WHY do you want to know how to make an earthquake?"

"Something needs to happen to this place. Shake it up, create an international . . . emergency," Amy said, in the same tone as if she were discussing the errands she needed to do for the day.

"Why? We've seen enough of those for a lifetime. Like we need another," Rory pointed out.

"What we need is some extraterrestrial life back here," Amy said, washing and drying off her hands.

"Like I said, Amy-"

"Rory," Amy said sternly, making him shut up. "We need the Doctor to come back here. We need explanations. _I _need explanations. All we got was a ride home and a 'Geronimo, Ponds!' and nothing more about this time-warpy thing we've got with our daughter. I want to know about what exactly happened with Melody, Rory, and we need the Doctor. It's not like we have his mobile number, _NO_, we need a different way to reach him." Amy looked thoughtful.

Rory looked interested. "And what do you suggest?"

Amy brought her eyes down to look at him, and a grin showed up on her face. "We've got to make something that can be seen from space."

"I haven't the muscle and we haven't the finances to create a canal or Great Wall of China, Amy, you know," Rory said.

Amy brought two of her fingers almost together, squinting her eyes. "Think a LITTLE bit smaller, Rory."

* * *

The two Ponds spent a grand total of twenty-two minutes, an entire kettle of tea, a chipped mug, and wasted time when they were supposed to be on the way to work, but they had a grand list laying on their table, all for the taking. They were to look over it and bring their plans in motion. Amy didn't know _when_ they would get the attention of the Doctor, but she was sure that somehow, in some way, they'd get him back.

**Thanks for reading! **


	2. Don't Dye a Sheep Don't

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Doctor Who. :)  
**

The old man had his lips in a very thin line. He was very old underneath his nice dark cap, but he was also very perplexed. Before him was one of the strangest sights he had ever laid eyes on, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Ya know, I wasn't exactly thinking this was the plan you were goin' ta do when you said you'd watch my sheep if you could experiment with some of their wool," the old man said, his Scottish accent very enunciated, as he was annoyed at the two Ponds standing before them; both looked very guilty and sheepish, pardon the pun, as there was dozens of sheep around them, several of them spotted with different florescent colors.

"That—well, that was the agreement, Mr. Perkins," Rory said, waving his hand from his sides and wishing that he could disappear. He sighed. This idea of asking people if they could watch their sheep for a day and color them to signal the Doctor to some new mysterious disease he and Amy had thought they could spark was rather pathetic, when he really thought it through. He wished he had done that before he and Amy had driven into Scotland and taken the first job.

"Yeah. We watch your sheep while you go the village for the day, probably have a pint with your buds and enjoy yourself, and we get to experiment a bit with healthy, non-toxic products." Amy had resumed her composure and was talking like she was sure of herself, her hands on her hips as she looked at the old man, who did not look amused in the slightest. She turned back to look at the sheep in their pen. Some were pink; some were purple, and others blue. And they had thought it such a good plan, too . . .

"It's supposed to be a shampoo, too," Amy said, reaching down and petting a sheep, as if she was its best friend. She gave a quick smile; she hoped it didn't come across as forced. Mr. Perkins with the cane looked like he wanted to chase the two Ponds off his property. "So it'll wash out nice and get rid of the fleas and ticks and bugs and all that—"

"My sheep's wool does not have any _fleas or ticks or bugs_," said the old man.

Rory stepped forward, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Of course not, sir. Never said they did—"

"It'll probably keep them a—away," Amy said brightly.

"They _never _had them," the old man said.

"—it'll be a guarantee, then," Amy said, going to stand by her husband with a faked smile. They exchanged looks and felt the exact same way at the other: like they wanted to bolt. She gulped. "That they won't get that sort of stuff. _Ever._"

A minute passed.

"Get off my property," Mr. Perkins said, glaring at them from underneath his bushy white eyebrows.

"Yeah, we should probably do that," Rory said quickly, beginning to walk backward. He was eying the old man's cane.

"We're real, real sorry about the misunderstanding with that," Amy said. "So sorry," and she and Rory walked backward as far as they could, Mr. Perkins still glaring at them. But when he turned away from them to his sheep, they bolted to their car.

They fell into their seats.

"We are NEVER doing that again," Rory said as Amy quickly buckled herself.

"I hope the Doctor realizes just what we're putting ourselves through to talk to him," Amy said, leaning against her seat as Rory buckled himself and turned himself to look out as he backed up.

"Next time we see him, _when_ we see him, we're getting his mobile number. Deal?" Rory said, turning to look at Amy.

She quickly nodded. "Deal."

Because they were not going to go through something like that again.

Lies.

Of course they would.

**DOCTOR GIVE US YOUR PHONE NUMBER. **

**Thanks for reading! Please review! :")**


	3. WANTED: DA DOCTOR

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Doctor Who.  
**

Amy leaned over the counter at the printer's, her arms folded, her eyes expectant. Her entire body radiated with impatience and excitement as her quick eyes caught every movement the printer made as he gathered and stamped a large box of papers. He taped over it with a large roll of clear brown tape and then brought it over. He slammed it next to Amy's arms, though hardly ruffling her, and said, "There you go. Two-hundred and fifty wanted posters."

"How much is that gonna be?" Amy said, pulling out her fashionable purse from her side and taking out her wallet.

"£15," the printer said, putting down the tape and looking strangely at the box. His eyebrows furrowed as Amy bustled about, fetching the money, and he said, "What're all of these for, anyway?" He hadn't exactly understood what he had printed on the papers.

Amy gave him a quick, bright smile as she handed him the money. "Oh, just looking for a friend."

The man took the money and started to put it away in the cash register. "Awfully weird stuff describing him, though."

"Yeah, well," Amy said, scooping up the box with both hands, utilizing her arms, "he's a . . . _special_ friend." She shrugged and hurried outdoors before the box could fall onto her new shoes.

Rory was sitting in their car, his hands gripping the steering wheel, and his eyes looking out for any sign of Amy. He saw the glass door open, revealing his redhead wife as she stumbled out, nearly overcome by the sheer weight of the box. She shook it off, though, and hurried to the car.

He unbuckled himself and opened her door for her, saying, "You got 'em all, then?"

"I should," Amy said. She set the box between them and then took her seat, flinging the car everywhere. As she buckled, she caught Rory's eyes and said, wide-eyed, "At least, I hope I do. Or there's going to be a bone to be picked with that printer."

"We haven't got time for picking bones, so let's hope they're all there," Rory said, and he drove them past the little print shop to the first gaslight in the city. They burst out, the box in Rory's arms, the stapler in Amy's hands, and managed to squeeze out of the crowd to the post. Rory tore the tape somehow and stuck the first poster up on the post. It had a picture of the Doctor on it, one of the only ones they had. It had been taken on Amy's mobile phone, and so it had her and him in fizzy greyness, laughing hysterically and making peace signs. Below it, it said:

_Have you seen this man? His name is the Doctor. He's brilliant and he knows it; he loves bow ties, is good with children, eats bananas, can be found in a tweed jacket wearing strange hats. He has a blue box he usually keeps around. _

_If you find him or have heard of any sighting of him, call this number or seek this address_

and there was their address and phone number. Amy stapled it and nodded to Rory in an affirmative way, like they were performing some special mission. In a way, they were. They were trying to find their best friend in an impossibly big universe.

But they kept trying, those Ponds. They spent the whole day and the next doing the signs.

They did nothing to help. All they did was blow in the wind and litter England.

But those Ponds hoped beyond hopes that that was a helpful thing.

**Thanks for reading! Please review! **


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